Page 48 of Tied

Chapter 23

Riley

Time definitely passes slower when he is not around—and I hate that. Of course, I hate everything about this situation, but what I hate the most is my own stupidity.

My stupidity for not telling my sister about this particular job interview because I was afraid I would jinx it. My stupidity for not telling a single soul about my plans when I left the house on that dreadful day. My stupidity for not taking into consideration that—as exciting as it sounded—there might be something off about Mr. Stanford and his peculiar job listing and the way he conducted his selection process.

I hate myself for being so careless. No one knows where I went that day, and it’s very likely that no one has even noticed my absence so far. Alena and I only talk about once a week, especially since she’s been married and floating through the blissful honeymoon phase with her new husband. I don’t blame her for it because I’m happy for them and it makes me sick that my idiotic behavior will eventually cause her a lot of sorrow. She has done more for me than any sister should ever have to do, and she deserves to finally live the carefree and happy life that she desires.

She shouldn’t have to worry about her stupid baby sister being kidnapped and used by a ruthless criminal.

A fucking attractive criminal who has turned my head with his irresistible charm and looks.

I hate that I’m so attracted to him, and so weak.

I know that everything he does with me is part of an elaborate plan to execute his revenge. Everything he says, everything he does—it all serves a purpose: to get me attached and bent to his actions. I know all of that, and yet, my body and heart ache for him in his absence.

How fucked up is that?

Why do I even believe him? Why am I so convinced that the story about his parents is true? It could be a big, fat—and ugly—lie just to make me play along.

How do I know the Covey really exists? How do I know that they really did what he told me? How do I know I’m not playing for the bad guy?

Okay, I guess I can disregard that last question because Cain is a bad guy for sure—I just don’t know how bad he really is.

How bad can he really be? Could I be that blinded by lust to not see the person he really is?

“No,” I insist, my low voice traveling through the empty room so weirdly loud that it startles me a bit. “No, he’s not a monster.”

My own reassurance soothes me, making it a lot easier to give in to the longing I have for him.

I don’t know how long it’s been since Cain left, but it feels a lot longer than just a few hours. It could be a day, or even two. I fell asleep in his arms and when I woke up, he was gone and I drifted right back to sleep, hoping to escape into a world of dreams that are far more pleasant than the ugly truth of my captivity.

They say that solitary confinement is the worst form of punishment because the lack of human interaction, the lack of touch, conversation and dissipation drives people mad. I understand that now better than ever, and I can see the impact it is having on me. My mind is starting to rotate, my thoughts moving in hurried circles while my restless body moves along with it. I have developed a monotonous routine of pacing through the small and dreary room in a repetitive circuit, always following the exact same path, back and forth like a tiger in a way-too-small cage, with the blanket tightly wrapped around my naked body and my gaze lowered to the ground. The motions keep me sane because it feels like my body is catching up with my revolving mind and thus keeping it in place, controlled and safe.

I’m sure that Cain is aware of that. He knows what he’s doing to me—and that bothers me even more now, after what happened between us in here.

We didn’t just have sex. We fought, we played, we craved. We melted into each other, each one of us unwilling to hold back.

And we closed our eyes before the truth. At least, I know I did.

Because—no matter how good and right it may feel—it just isn’t. And it will end as soon as I’ve done what Cain forces me to do.

My heart feels heavy at the thought, but it shouldn’t.

There’s a sound coming from the door, causing me to freeze on the spot. I’m standing in the middle of the room, the blanket wrapped around myself and my eyes glued to the door as it slowly swings open. As soon as I realize that it’s not Cain who’s entering the room, I jump away on impulse, moving backwards until my legs meet the cold bed frame. Pulling the blanket almost up to my ears, I stare at the figure stepping through the door, my eyes wide and my whole body stiff with fearful anticipation.

I recognize the man from the day I was brought here. It’s not the disgusting thug who assaulted me, but the second guy who helped drag me down here. He is shorter and thicker, and even though it doesn’t seem so at first glance, I’m pretty sure that the meat stretching his shirt is not just fat but a good amount of muscle, too. His upper arms are as thick as my thighs, and while he’s not much taller than me, he’s still intimidating as he approaches me with resolute steps. He is hold something in his hand and—much to my disappointment—it’s not food but a package, tightly wrapped up with tape.

“Here,” he grunts, expecting me to catch the package as he throws it in my direction. I don’t want to let go of the blanket, so I remain motionless as the package bounces against my chest and drops down to my feet.

“Get dressed and ready,” the guy adds, already turning his back to me as he makes a move to leave.

“Ready? For what?”

He ignores my question and disappears through the door without another word. A loud and familiar click sound follows, and I’m once again locked away from the world—and alone.

I hesitate for a moment, eying the package at my feet before I kneel down to pick it up. It’s soft and not very heavy. The blanket glides down to the floor when I let go of it to tear open the package, warm rays of hope spreading throughout my core. My eyes widen with glee when I find exactly what I was hoping for—something to wear. It’s not my own clothes, but a brand new pair of dark skinny jeans, a casual blouse and a camisole made of the softest cashmere I have ever touched. A blush heats my face when I see the set of underwear, a lacy bra and matching panties in black with delicate details.

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